


Rendezvous

by LilacChild



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cancer, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Ghost Drifting, Ghost Possession, Ghosts, Grieving, Love Triangles, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Past Character Death, Possession
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2018-12-12 16:20:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11740695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilacChild/pseuds/LilacChild
Summary: Confessing your love is already hard. Dealing with the stubborn ghost of your lover-to-be's dead and gone husband sabotaging your efforts just makes matters worse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ah Hetalia. The fandom I try so hard to leave and yet always come back to.
> 
> This fic is heavily inspired by the anime Natsuyuki Rendezvous and is a reimagining of the story involving Hetalia characters. You do not need to have watched the show to understand! Please enjoy.

The light coming in through the windows of the small cafe was blue, the late sun’s rays filtered from its angry red through painted glass so that it danced lazily over the wooden floors beneath Alfred’s feet like a fairy tale. He was going through the motions of cleaning, his limbs heavy from the day’s work as he ran a broom over the blue, sweeping dreams and light together with the dirt and grime from underneath the tables. He was alone in the room except for the cafe’s owner at his back, the man’s silent companionship as he counted receipts behind a cedar paneled counter enough to keep Alfred’s heart light.

He snuck a glance upward as he collected the debris into a dustpan. Arthur’s small blonde head was bent, large eyebrows furrowed in concentration, one end of his pen clutched between his teeth. Alfred caught his breath. He was the entire reason Alfred had decided to begin working here. The first day he’d seen the man was the day he’d been lost. A casual visit to a restaurant with his brother had turned into a near daily hangout for the chance to catch a glimpse of the beauty that he’d learned to call Arthur Kirkland. When he’d finally gathered the courage to ask for a part-time position he’d nearly choked over the lightness of the man’s laugh. Relief wasn’t the only thing that washed over him at the agreement for hire. There was also something akin to hope.

Now as Alfred made his way behind the counter to dispose of the dustpan’s contents, he shared a soft smile with the man. Even sharing a workplace, the two rarely had these small moments of solitude. Even as Alfred debated starting up a conversation, the silence was stolen from them by another.

“That’s everything!” A cheery voice cut through the suspended air, it’s source gliding in from the direction of the kitchen. A slim brunette with mocha skin and a permanent smile, Feliciano Vargas, pulled a dark apron from over his head and dropped it onto a hook by the door with ease. Arthur’s attentive eyes immediately abandoned Alfred’s.

“Feliciano, thank you. You didn’t have to stay and help clean on your last day.”

“You make it sound like I’m leaving this place forever,” Feliciano scrunched up his nose, clearly disliking the idea. “As long as I have a job here, I want to be as useful as possible! It’ll only be a month away to Italy, and it’ll be nice not having to be the one to cook for once. I hear the hotel has room service,” he sighed dreamily.

“I’m sure you won’t have any problem remembering to relax on your honeymoon,” Arthur smirked almost teasingly.

“Of course I won’t! And Alfred and I will make sure to treat you just as good when it’s your turn to run off on an adventure with someone. Do you think there’s a wedding in your near future?” Feliciano was quick to tease back, clearly winning as the tips of Arthur’s ears turned the most delightful shade of pink Alfred had ever seen.

“Oh no, I’m afraid I have no romantic stories to tell.” Was Alfred imagining the way Arthur glanced in his direction? “You’re still coming to your going away party tomorrow, right?”

“It can’t exactly be called my party if I’m not there, now can it?” Feliciano giggled and grabbed for his keys in the drawer beneath the register. “I’ll see the two of you tomorrow night then!” He gave a cheerful wave in Alfred’s direction before heading to the door.

Alfred had finished his own cleaning as well, hanging his apron next to Feliciano’s and brushing at any imaginary dirt on his shirt. His normal talkative demeanor was dampened by his own shyness around Arthur, to the point that he was content to grab for his keys in the drawer and try to slip out behind Feliciano.

“Oh, Alfred!” Arthur called to him before he could leave. Chest clenching, the younger of the two turned back around.

“Yes sir?”

“I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind helping me. I still haven’t managed to get a cake for tomorrow night. You’re close to Feliciano, so I thought maybe you could help me find something he might like.” Arthur offered one of his rare smiles, his tired green eyes softening around the corners.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’d love to help out.” Alfred shifted his keys from palm to palm, trying to keep his expression unreadable even as his heart rate picked up. “Though I wouldn’t say I know Feli all that well. We never hang out outside of the cafe or anything.”

Arthur gave a brief nod and switched off the lights to the dining area, leaving only the sea of filtered blue across the floor.

“Don’t worry about it then. I’d like to have the company though. Do you mind locking the front door on your way out? I’m just going to run upstairs and grab my wallet. You can go around back and meet me in the apartment if you want.” Arthur gestured up towards the ceiling before backing into the kitchen, presumably to head up the narrow metal staircase that led to the rooms above.

With barely enough time to nod his agreement, Alfred began to regulate his breathing. He refused to let himself get worked up over an outing with Arthur Kirkland. There was no reason outside of casual politeness for Arthur to have invited him into his living space. He just had to keep that in mind as he locked the main entrance into the cafe and headed around back and up the outer stairs. He took a deep breath and gave a gentle knock. When there was no answer, he twisted the door handle and pushed it open.

“Arthur?” Alfred’s blue eyes peered into the entryway, noting the hall cluttered with books and papers was empty of people. “I’m coming in!”

As the door clicked shut behind him, a figure stepped in front of him from an open doorway on his right. Both Alfred and this new person froze upon making eye contact. It was a man. A tall man, with golden hair hanging loosely to his bare shoulders. He was standing in front of Alfred in nothing but a pair of underwear, blue eyes not unlike his own eyeing him slowly.

“Excuse me!” Alfred blushed at the other’s state of undress and quickly averted his gaze to the floor. “I was just looking for Arthur.” There was as moment of pause before the man spoke.

“Who are you?” His voice was like a song, inviting Alfred to remain relaxed even given the circumstances.

“Alfred, is that you?” Arthur’s voice called from deeper inside the apartment.

 _No romantic stories to tell._ Had that been a lie? What other explanation was there for having a near naked man in one’s home? He glanced back up again, seeing the stranger’s face seem to soften, a look of pity filming his pale eyes.

“You’re in love with Arthur.” It wasn’t a question. Alfred felt his shoulders tense and pull forward, as if trying to protect his apparently obvious feelings. Did Arthur already know? Had he told this strange adonis of a man who lived with him? Maybe he’d caught on to Alfred’s little crush and had lured him up here to squash it out by intimidating him with this beautiful stranger before his feelings became problematic.

Arthur appeared from Alfred’s right through the same door. Judging by the biscuit in his hand, it was likely a kitchen.

“Oh good, it is you. Why didn’t you answer me? I thought I’d grab a bite before we headed out. Do you want anything?” His politeness was lost on Alfred though when the underwear-clad man leaned in to wipe a bit of jam from the corner of his mouth with his thumb and place a soft kiss in its place.

“My dear angel, you always make such a mess.”

The Brit didn’t even flinch.

“Alfred? Are you all right? You haven’t caught something have you?” With a step forward, Arthur reached out to press the back of his hand to Alfred’s forehead. “Look at me, won’t you? You’re shoes can’t be all that interesting-- Alfred?”

He knew his expression likely gave Arthur good reason to question him, but it still brought a sorrowed anger bubbling up inside of him. The way he spoke as if there was nothing out of place about the situation, as if Alfred’s heart wasn’t breaking.

“You know I could have handled a simple ‘I’m not interested.’” His voice was uncharacteristically quiet, his face red from a mixture of embarrassment and shame.

This only caused Arthur’s face to twist into an even more confused expression. “Alfred, what are you on about?”

_No romantic stories to tell._

“I’ll go. I think we all know that’s what you want.” Alfred’s gaze lifted to the stranger still standing in the entryway behind Arthur. There was still that pitying look on his face, making Alfred’s stomach twist uncomfortably. He reached behind himself to pull open the door again before he could become sick.

“Alfred, wait, what about the cake?”

He didn’t answer, choosing to bolt down the staircase and away from the cafe instead. Away from Arthur and his mystery lover, and hopefully away from any further heartbreak.


	2. Chapter 2

Alfred F. Jones had always had a big heart. It had gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion, whether it be bringing home a stray dog to his parents or letting others take advantage of him because he refused to see anything but good in them. All in all, he’d had his heart broken before, but it had never fallen apart quite like this.

He felt detached from himself, the warm orange of the evening sun turning the skin of his arms a soft gold. He wanted to turn around. He knew this was a bad idea. Coming back here after the events of the day before was only asking to be hurt more. Instead, he looked up at the faded sign for Bonnefoy Cafe. It needed a good hosing, the grime of the past few years made it look dull and run down. He’d have to mention it to Arthur.

Arthur, the man he’d been infatuated with for the past few months. The man who owned a restaurant despite the fact that he hadn’t the slightest shred of culinary talent. The man who had some sort of god of male beauty walking around half-clothed in his house. Even in the fading heat of the day, Alfred hunched at the thought.

The bottom floor of the building was dark, and Alfred could hear the distinctive chime of Feliciano’s laugh coming through the cracked balcony door, hidden behind the sign. His sweaty palm clenched around the bottle of wine his brother had helped him pick out as a temporary going away present for the cafe’s only chef. Deep breaths.

Just as he had the day before, Alfred headed around the back of the building and up the stairs. He’d wanted to stay home. Wanted to bury himself in blankets and self-loathing and shield himself from the world. But Matthew, his one and only brother and roommate, was not about to let him eat the weight of his sorrow in cookie dough ice cream and stay holed up in his room, and thus had taken him out shopping for a present for Feliciano. And, of course, now that he had a gift, he couldn’t not go to the party. The sneaky bastard.

Three sharp raps to the door. Alfred counted the space between his breaths. In, one, two, out, one, two. Maybe he could make this as painless as possible. In, one, two. He’d give Feliciano the gift and have minimal contact with the other two men. Out, two, three. Quick and easy. In, two, three.

The door opened inward and Alfred was met with the quiet beauty of Arthur Kirkland. He was smiling, head tilted back over his shoulder with the softest of smiles on his lips, amused by something said in the other room. Alfred forgot to breathe out. Four, five, six…

Arthur’s smile faltered when his eyes found those of the sandy blonde on his doorstep. The ache in his lungs forced the oxygen back through his lips.

“Oh, Alfred. I didn’t expect you to come. I was just telling Feliciano how sick you must have gotten yesterday when you ran off.”

“Right,” Alfred felt heat rising to his cheeks. Surely Arthur didn’t really think he’d been sick. He was saving face, pretending not to know how upset Alfred had really been as an effort to not embarrass him. “Well I’m here. I’ll make it quick.”

“There’s no rush.” Arthur pulled the door open further to allow Alfred’s entrance. “Feliciano’s in the living room, just down the hall. I’m going to grab some more drinks, I’ll be right there.” Arthur pressed a hand to the light cotton of Alfred’s shirt, propelling him down the hall with a light push before disappearing into a kitchen on the left.

Hesitant, Alfred progressed down the hall, feeling out of place. Even though he’d been invited, he felt invasive. The cluttered papers he’d seen before piled against the walls and the dusty picture frames filled with unfamiliar faces were all too personal.

“Alfred! You brought wine?” Feliciano’s cheery voice came to him from an open room to his right only seconds before the man himself was prying the bottle from his hands and humming appreciatively at what he found. Pulled from his awkwardness, Alfred gave a silent thanks to his brother. He’d never understood all the different types of wine. 

“You’re just in time for food. We had to order in, since Arthur didn’t want me cooking for my own party and I wasn’t about to eat anything he’d tried to make.” Feliciano moved with energy, the sharp angles of his thin shoulders and hips attacking the air around him with each step as he set the bottle on a small table beside a bunch of takeout containers. “We’ll save this for dessert. Thank you, Alfred.”

“Don’t mention it.” Slowly, he scanned the room. There was no sign of the stranger, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t here. And he really didn’t want to run into him again. “I was actually thinking of just heading home. Not feeling well.” He pressed a hand to his stomach and made a mock face of pain. Feliciano’s expression morphed into a pout.

“You’re leaving?”

Alfred felt a lump of guilt rise in his throat from the lie.

“You can’t leave, it’s not a party if there’s only two of us.”

_ Only two _ .

Alfred decided not to mention that three people hardly qualified as a party either, and instead breathed a sigh of relief. Only two. So the stranger wasn’t here then. With this new piece of information coupled with the pure innocence of Feliciano’s sad eyes, Alfred felt his defenses breaking down.

“I guess I could stay for a little bit.”

“Oh good!” Feliciano’s excitement was like a switch, immediately igniting his limbs back into their jutting movements as he circled the table and fell into a seat just as Arthur came into the room with a handful of beers and his trademark calming presence.

 

\--------------------

 

Dinner was surprisingly pleasant, even with the tension between Alfred and Arthur. He was sure he wasn’t imagining it this time. They kept meeting each other’s gaze, one or the other quickly looking back to their plates or becoming suddenly engrossed in Feli’s stories about his fiance. Was Arthur embarrassed that Alfred had seen the man? Perhaps he’d been a one night stand, someone who hadn’t been meant to be there, someone who he hadn’t been meant to see.

Once the food had been cleared they sat together on the floral couches of Arthur’s living room, surrounded on all sides by the crowded bookshelves, and spoke amongst each other. The subject skipped around, from Feliciano’s temporary replacement (a mutual acquaintance of his and Arthur’s named Antonio), to all the things Feliciano had planned for his honeymoon in Italy. It was nice, Alfred had to admit, but the pleasant conversation almost felt overwhelming. He could say he wasn’t used to it, this near formality. Feliciano and Arthur were both older than him, Feli being twenty-six and Arthur nearing thirty while Alfred had only rounded the corner of his twenty-first birthday a few months before. There was definitely a difference in behavior between them and the people his age he normally hung out with. For example, the fact that they considered three people getting together for dinner and a couple beers was a party. It was almost cute. Who was he kidding? It was definitely cute. 

“So, Arthur,” Feliciano scooted to the edge of the couch excitedly. “I know you said you weren’t dating anyone, so I was thinking I could hook you up with someone. I’ve got a lot of friends, and it’s not like you do much with your weekends, right?” Feliciano wore a big grin. Alfred felt that ache in his chest again, he hated to think that he was actually getting used to it. He glanced over to Arthur for his reaction, and there it was again. Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds before Arthur’s hands came up in front of him, frantically pushing the idea away as his cheeks burned.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Feli!” He gave an awkward laugh. “Besides, I’m too old to think about getting back into dating or anything.” Yet another glance in Alfred’s direction.

Alfred’s eyes narrowed, Arthur’s words and his actions not matching up correctly in his head. What sort of game was he trying to play? Saying things like this, knowing that Alfred knew what he did. It was near frustrating.

“Don’t discount yourself.” Alfred couldn’t help speaking out, both Feliciano and Arthur going quiet and looking over at him. Arthur looked like he didn’t know what to say, his mouth open in a quiet search for words, his blush growing even darker. Feliciano was looking between the two of them and Alfred could almost hear the gears of his brain cranking away as something clicked in his head. He cleared his throat.

“I’m just gonna step outside.” He gestured towards the balcony on the other end of the living room with his beer and moved to get away from the situation as quick as possible.

He let out a deep breath as the sliding door closed behind him, then stepped over to the railing, leaning heavily against the metal. His life was over. He didn’t know why he’d come tonight, when he knew that Arthur wasn’t going to return his feelings. He was torturing himself. Even without the stranger, the night was turning south on him. He reached up to run a hand through the sandy hair on top of his head and take a swig from the remaining contents of the bottle he still had.

“It’s you.”

Alfred nearly choked, jerking around for the source of the voice. It was the stranger. The man from yesterday sat on the concrete floor of the balcony, out of sight of the living room, though thankfully this time he was clothed in dark slacks and a white button up, the collar open in that way those sexy douchebags in magazines wore. Alfred’s lips pressed into a hard line.

“It’s you.” Alfred responded, glancing in the direction of the door. “What are you doing out here?”

“I live here.”

 

\--------------------

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know there was something going on between you two or I wouldn’t have said anything!” Feliciano cried from across the room, as Arthur frantically tried to get him to shut up.

“There is nothing going on between Alfred and I, really, and I would greatly appreciate it if you didn’t yell about it!” Arthur’s face was on fire, and he knew he was doing nothing to convince the excitable brunette.

“So there’s nothing  _ yet _ .” Feli’s teasing grin was back. “You like him, you do! I can tell! I can always tell with these things.”

Arthur deflated, rubbing at his temples as he felt a headache coming on. Goodness was he glad that Feliciano was leaving for a month. The man was terrible with secrets. “Just please don’t say anything, okay?”

“You have my word.” Feliciano’s voice turned suddenly serious and he pressed a finger to his lips. It only lasted a few seconds before he was grinning again though. “Why haven’t you said anything then? He’s totally into you too!”

Arthur’s argument was cut short at the comment. “You don’t think…. Of course he isn’t.”

“Arthur, seriously?”

“Alfred is just a nice person. There’s no reason to misinterpret his actions.” Arthur’s voice was matter-of-fact, recollecting his composure.

“Uh-huh. A nice person who’s always working late just so he can be alone with you. A nice person who came to the restaurant every day before he even worked here? My food is delicious, but I don’t think that was the reason he was coming so often.”

“Don’t discount yourself.” Arthur echoed Alfred’s words from earlier, which only made Feliciano groan.

“I can’t believe this is happening right before I leave! I’m going to have to text Antonio every day for drama!”

“Nothing is happening.” Arthur frowned. He glanced in the direction of the balcony, able to make out the dark shape of Alfred’s back. 

“Why not? What’s stopping you?”

“I just don’t think it’s time yet. You know.” Arthur sighed, sinking back into the couch. Feliciano’s expression once more fell into its soft, wide-eyed, sadness.

“You mean Francis?”

“I always mean Francis.”

 

\--------------------

 

“So you  _ can _ see me?”

Alfred didn’t know what to make of this question, his face letting that sentiment clearly show. The stranger stood from his sitting position, his pale feet bare beneath the gathering of fabric around his ankles. Now that he stood, Alfred could see that the clothing didn’t seem to fit him very well. Baggy in weird places, too loose.

“You live here?” Alfred decided to ignore the first question. He needed answers. No running. He pulled himself up to his full height, his chest puffed. He was still shorter than the stranger by a good two inches. “How long?”

“Three years.”

The number was surprisingly large. Had Arthur really had a partner for that long? Three years? How come Alfred had never heard of him?

“You’re in love with Arthur.”

Those words again. All the pity in them as the first time, but now that he wasn’t so caught up in his own emotions he could begin to hear those in the other man’s voice. Sadness. A loss.

“So what if I am?” Alfred challenged. “Who are you anyway?”

“Francis.” With the lightest of movements, he jumped from the balcony onto the metal of the railing, where he balanced himself with the grace of a dancer. “I’m Arthur’s husband.”

Alfred didn’t even have the chance to hide his shock. “He… never mentioned he was married.”

Francis’ ice blue eyes fell to the ground beneath them, two stories down. “Really? That doesn’t surprise me. He was always rambling about keeping work and personal life separate. He was much better at it than I was.” Francis pushed off the rail, and Alfred leapt forward, reaching for him to keep him from falling. He watched in horror as his hand passed through the image of Francis’ forearm, and the man seemed to float a few feet away from the balcony. Francis looked back at him, his sad smile still in place. 

“What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I've already mentioned this on my other fic, but I doubt any of my readers here transfer over to that one. In short, I am a Houstonian who was affected by the hurricane last September. There was a lot of damage to my house and I lost my job within weeks of the disaster. Now that life has settled into something somewhat normal again, I have returned to writing! Thank you to anyone who stuck with me for this update, and I hope you enjoy the rest of this fic.

Alfred was standing in the cafe’s walk-in pantry, turning ingredients over in his hands as he judged their freshness, automatically tossing anything he found from their shipments two weeks ago. Normally, Feliciano would be the one doing this, but the man had boarded a plane with his hunk of a boyfriend at the ass-crack of dawn that morning, and his replacement, Antonio, wasn’t here yet, so the task had fallen to him. Well, him and Arthur. He glanced up at the older man who was working on the opposite end of the pantry. Alfred felt his breath catch as he gauged the slope of Arthur’s nose, the angle of his neck, the way his pale hair brushed over his forehead —

His expression morphed into a frown when a very different face replaced his view. Francis had stepped between him and Arthur. Or rather, he’d glided. Alfred wasn’t exactly sure on the terminology for ghost movement, but he felt like glide was a good enough word.

Francis himself was frowning as well, clearly displeased with Alfred for looking at their mutual romantic interest. Alfred just made an irritated noise in the back of his throat, rolled his eyes, and turned back to the shelf he was working on.

“Is something the matter, Alfred?” Arthur turned to him and Alfred felt an embarrassed blush crawl over his cheeks. 

“No, I’m fine.” He hunched his shoulders over. “Just had something in my throat.”

“Mmm, if you’re still sick you should probably go home and rest.”

Alfred shook his head. “Really, I’m all right.”

Arthur watched him thoughtfully for a moment more. “Well, I did have some errands to run if you think you can finish this on your own. I’ll pick us up something to eat on the way back for your trouble.”

Alfred perked up. “It’s really no trouble at all, honest.”

Francis cleared his throat from where he stood by Arthur’s shoulder, a hot look in his eyes.

“If you say so, I’ll still pick something up though.”

Alfred felt his shoulders sag when Arthur left the cramped space, breathing a sigh of relief before glaring at the ghost that shared the small space with him.

“What are you doing here?” The hatred in his voice was unmistakable.

“I told you,” Francis kicked off the ground, hovering in circles around Alfred. “I live here.”

“You live upstairs.” Alfred slammed a can back down onto the shelf with a little more force than necessary.

“It’s not like I can just stay up there knowing you’re down here eyeing my husband. Do you always stare like that? If Arthur caught you he’d realize how much of a creep you are.”

Alfred held in an annoyed snort of laughter, pushing aside the memories of just how many times Arthur had met his gaze. “And what does that make you? Do you just watch him all day? If only Arthur knew you would be such a stalker after you died.”

Francis twisted his body upside down as he floated through the shelves in front of Alfred’s nose, refusing to let this absolute child ignore him. “If only Arthur knew how much of a  _ coward _ you are.” He hissed the word with a near pleasure at seeing how it made Alfred squirm.

“Hello?” An unfamiliar voice tore Alfred’s attention away from giving Francis the most seething glare of his life. He brushed his hands on his pants and walked into the main kitchen area, then poked his head into the doorway to the dining room. There was a man about his height with messy brown hair standing near the register. He gave a cheery wave upon seeing Alfred, the bag slung over his shoulder shaking with the motion.

“Are you Antonio?” He called, gesturing for the man to follow him into the kitchen, trying to shake off the irritation of dealing with the ghost.

“That’s me.” He grinned and followed him deeper into the cafe. “Sorry I couldn’t make it in earlier.”

Alfred shook his head. “We’re normally closed today so it’s not a big deal. I think Arthur just wanted you to get settled in.”

Francis drifted over, and the way he was actually smiling, without any sadness or malice for once, left Alfred a little bewildered. 

The ghost caught his quirked eyebrow and quickly cooled his excitement, touching down again beside Antonio. “He’s my best friend.  _ Was _ my best friend.”

Antonio made himself busy, pulling out a personal set of knives and getting himself acquainted with where everything was. Alfred took a step forward, watching as he worked. He had to admit to being a little intrigued about the man if he’d known Francis before he became a bag of ghost dicks.

“You really could have just come tomorrow before we opened, you know.”

Antonio waved a hand over his shoulder. “It’s alright, I had the time and I wouldn’t want to put Arthur through the trouble of dealing with a new chef on his birthday.”

That had Alfred straightening in surprise. Birthday? He glanced at where Francis stood, leaning against the oven. He only shrugged before pushing up off the ground and through the ceiling and into the rooms above. No snide remarks, no smirks… He made Alfred’s stomach uneasy.

He and Antonio worked together for the next hour, Alfred helping him learn where everything was and finishing clearing out the pantry together. Alfred wondered silently the whole time about Arthur’s birthday and what it was that had made Francis clam up. Not to mention what it was he was supposed to get the man for the event. Something told him he wasn’t a flowers type of guy. 

Luckily he was saved from his thoughts when the bell for the entrance jingled and Arthur stepped in, his hair dripping and the shoulders of his shirt clinging to his skin.

Arthur smiled at the two of them sheepishly. “Antonio, you made it,” he nodded politely. “Thank you for doing this on such short notice.”

Once more Antonio waved off the thanks.

“Alfred, I’m sorry I couldn’t pick up anything to eat. It started raining while I was out. I thought maybe we could go get something together.” The way Arthur’s eyes lit up combined with the flush of cold rain against his cheeks had Alfred’s heart skipping a beat.

“I \- yeah, sure, of course.” He stuttered.

“That’s wonderful,” Arthur stepped closer and laid a gentle hand on Alred’s arm. “Do you have an umbrella?” Alfred was sure Arthur would have had to be blind not to see his blush.

“Oh, no actually, I don’t.” He was pretty sure Matthew kept a few umbrellas somewhere in the apartment but he’d be damned if he knew where they were.

“You can use mine,” Antonio chimed in. “I left it by the door when I came in. I won’t be going anywhere anytime soon so you can just return it later.”   
Alfred’s heart reached out in kinship to this new man. A true hero whose tale would be told whenever Alfred recounted his romantic life to his friends later. And by his friends he meant Matthew. “Thanks man, you’re a lifesaver.”

He and Arthur headed to the door and the cafe owner picked up the bright red umbrella on the wall before stepping out into the grey smudge that the world had become in all of this rain. Alfred had to duck a little to keep his head from knocking the top of the umbrella, his height a considerable amount larger than Arthur’s. He followed Arthur’s lead away from the cafe towards their destination. He had to admit it was nice knowing he’d get some time with Arthur without Francis quite literally hovering over the two of them.

“This rain has been going for a while,” Arthur mused, casting a glance at the grey clouds above them.

Alfred followed his gaze. “Has it? I didn’t notice it start.”

Arthur nodded. “I heard someone say it was supposed to last for a few days.”

“I hope not,” Alfred watched Arthur beside him, the slow bob of his steps and the sweep of his eyelashes over his cheeks.

Arthur nudged him playfully, the umbrella ducking with the movement and spraying the two of them with raindrops. “You don’t like the rain?”

Alfred cast his gaze to the side, too shy to meet his eyes. “That’s not it. But I would hate for it to rain on your birthday.”

The playful smile fell away. “You know about that?”

He’d never been very good at subtlety, but Alfred still caught the shift in their conversation. “Antonio told me.”

“Oh.”

There was a moment of awkward silence between the two of them before Arthur chuckled. “At my age there’s hardly anything left to celebrate, but I find myself doing it every year anyway.” There was a softness to Arthur’s voice that hadn’t been there before. “Have I ever told you I was married?”

Alfred’s footsteps stuttered, Francis’ smug face flashing in his memory. “No,” he breathed softly.

“Yes, well, of course, I didn’t.” And now it was Arthur’s turn to look away in embarrassment. “Tomorrow is also our anniversary. It was his idea to do it on my birthday. I was always bad with remembering dates and we were in a hurry to get married, so I agreed.”

Alfred’s tongue felt dry. He didn’t want to talk about this, but he could tell it was important to Arthur. “You aren’t together anymore?”

Arthur shook his head. “He passed away. He was always in and out of the hospital. We knew every time he went in that he might not come out.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Alfred muttered, not sure what else to say.

Arthur actually laughed, tipping his head back to stare into the center of the umbrella and Alfred wasn’t sure if he was trying to keep tears from falling or if he was just watching the shadow of droplets pattering against the fabric. “If he were here to hear you say that he’d be furious.”

He could see that. From what little of the man he’d seen himself, the guy was always angry. Or sad.

“He never wanted anyone to feel sorry for him.” Alfred watched as Arthur spoke of his past love, trying to keep his aching heart in check. “He would tell me, ‘Arthur, when I die I want you to move on to the next guy. Just burn all of my things and move on.’ “ Arthur scoffed. “What kind of person asks that of somebody?”

Alfred frowned as he listened, growing more and more uncomfortable as he went on before he finally just stopped, his shoes scraping on the concrete sidewalk beneath him. “Arthur?”

“Hm?” Arthur paused, glancing back at him as concern overtook him. “Oh, Alfred, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.” The serious tone of his voice was gone. “It’s just sometimes I ramble, you know how I get.” Alfred reached out his hand, his fingers curling over Arthur’s where they held the umbrella in place. His skin was cold from the rain. Gently, Alfred searched his boss’s face with pleading blue eyes.

“You said he wanted you to move on, right? Well what if,” Alfred dropped his gaze to his shoes, not able to properly form the words with Arthur’s intense gaze on him. “What if…” He closed his eyes, forcing the words out softly. “What if you moved on with me?”

More silence. Alfred couldn’t stand it. He was so tired of these silences between them, of not knowing what it all meant; the looks, the barely there flirtations, all of it. When he opened his eyes again Arthur’s cheeks were dusted the most breathtaking shade of pink.

Nervous laughter bubbled from the older man’s lips as he looked anywhere but at the man in front of him. “Thank you for trying to cheer me up Alfred, but I’m really—”

“I’m serious,” Alfred’s voice came out a bit too earnest for his liking. “Arthur, I,” His own face grew heated. “I like you. I want to know who you are. I want to be with you.”

“That’s,” Arthur swallowed. “That’s really sweet of you Alfred.” He gave a tight-lipped smile, searched the bleary backdrop of the city around them, and then turned around and continued walking.

Stunned, Alfred didn’t think to follow for the first few seconds, rain dampening his hair while his heart sank to the pit of his stomach. Only a few seconds more and he was trudging behind him. Arthur was silent for the rest of their walk, and even while they ate. Alfred left the restaurant feeling like a shell, and when Arthur told him to just go home for the day he only nodded. 

The rain got heavier on his way back to the apartment, and without an umbrella, he ended up soaked. After a fifteen minute walk, he was back home and all he wanted was to fall into bed and cry.

Thankfully it didn’t seem his brother was home from work yet, so he was saved from any questions his brother would have about what his crush did that day. He showered off and went to his room, pulled on a pair of boxers, plugged in his phone, and fell into bed.

Stupid rain. Stupid Francis for getting to Arthur first. Stupid him for thinking that when Arthur was talking about his dead husband was a good time to bring up his own personal feelings. Stupid stupid stupid. 

It took an hour to drift into sleep, but only a few seconds for the buzzing of his phone to bring him out of it. It was Arthur. He squinted blearily and looked around at the darkness of his room before he looked back at his screen. Just a few minutes after midnight. He swiped the answer button and brought the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” his voice cracked sleepily.

“Alfred, I’m sorry to bother you so late.” It seemed he wasn’t the only one affected by the late hour. Arthur’s voice was scratchy too.

“Hey, did you need something?” He rubbed at the base of his neck and stifled a yawn, trying to stay as business-like as possible since that seemed to be what Arthur wanted between them at this point. His heart gave a painful twinge.

“No, no, it’s not that.” There was a muffled noise over the line that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle. Alfred sat up in his bed, the sheets gathering around his waist, worry pulling his brows together.

“Arthur are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I just,” another muffled sound and it was unmistakable. Arthur was crying. “I just needed to know something. You… you’re really interested in me?”

Alfred’s whole body was awake now. “Yes,” His other hand went to the phone as if scared the opportunity to recount his feelings a second time would fly away unless he held it close. “Yes, of course I am.” Arthur choked back what sounded like a sob at his words.

“ _ Me _ ?”

“Yeah. You’re definitely my type.” Alfred made an effort at a joke, but it fell flat as Arthur stopped trying to hide it.

Alfred stayed on the line with Arthur as he cried, muttering reassurances until the sobs slowly died away into the soft breath of sleep. Worry still tugged at his heart, but Alfred couldn’t help just being satisfied that Arthur had given him a second chance, had mulled over his confession and apparently deemed it worthy of revisiting. He was about to pull the phone away and hang up when he heard a rustling on the other end. He paused, pressing the receiver back to his ear in case Arthur was still there.

“You have a lot of nerve, kid.” The snarled remark made Alfred’s blood run cold.  _ Francis _ . “Leave Arthur alone or you’ll be joining me in this waking hell.” Alfred felt fear flood his senses for half a second before he caught onto the slightest edge in Francis’ voice. Yes there was anger, and his constant underlying sadness, but under it all Alfred felt a taste of the ghost’s own fear. Confidence and adrenaline forced a smirk to the forefront.

“Feeling helpless, Francis? Watching Arthur cry in his bed over another man?” He could imagine the sweet rage on the blonde’s face. “You’re just bitter because you know one of these days I’m going to steal your husband.”

There was a loud clatter before the line went dead. Alfred pulled the phone away and looked down at the screen, his breathing loud and ragged from the excitement of threatening Francis right back. It didn’t take long for that excitement to wear off though and soon dread was pooling in his stomach. Having an angry ghost out for revenge at his workplace wasn’t the most ideal situation he could be in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I post status updates and cute things about my fics on my tumblr: [ChoroChild](http://chorochild.tumblr.com)


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